“He
“You said ‘was.’”
“He’s deceased.”
Rupe shrugged. “The name doesn’t ring a bell, and remembering names is one of my strengths.”
“Search your memory.”
“Sorry, the name means nothing to me.”
“It meant something to Dale Moody.”
“Then you should be asking him.”
“I intend to.” She tilted her head to one side. “What was it that convinced Moody of Allen Strickland’s innocence?”
“If he was convinced of Strickland’s innocence, that’s news to me.”
“Is it?”
“If Moody was convinced otherwise, why did he give me everything I needed to win a conviction?”
“You didn’t apply any pressure?” Dent asked. “No arm-twisting involved?”
“Not everyone has your hoodlum mentality.”
“What about Ray Strickland’s auto accident?” Bellamy asked.
“What about it?”
“Moody says you staged it to keep him from testifying in his brother’s defense.”
Rupe sputtered a laugh. Then he leaned forward from the waist and said, “Moody has drunk a lot of whiskey. He’s delusional.” Then his eyes narrowed on them. “What is this, anyway? Why the third degree? Surely you’re not taking the word of that burned-out cop over mine. If you are, you’re making fools of yourselves. My slate is clean. I only did my duty and carried out the law of the land.”
“Try selling that to Ray Strickland before he guts you.”
Rupe shot Dent a fulminating look, then came back to Bellamy. “Turning the tables here, mind if I ask you something?”
She gave a small nod of consent.
“You took license with every character in your book, including your sister. No offense, but Moody and I learned things about her that’d make a sailor blush. She was a little more…
“Go fuck yourself.”
Rupe only laughed. Going back to Bellamy, he said, “I just wondered, by painting her purer than she was, were you being respectful of the dead, or just naive?”
“I portrayed her the way I remember her.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Come on, now, you can tell me. Just between us,” he said, winking again, “did you love her all that much? Or even like her? Weren’t you just an itsy-bitsy bit jealous of her?”
“Where are you going with this?” she asked coolly.
“Nowhere. Just thinking out loud.” He thoughtfully tapped his fingertips against his lips. “If you’d been a little older at the time, I’d have wanted to know exactly where you were when she was killed.”
Bellamy realized he was only baiting her, but it was working. Her palms were damp when she slid the strap of her bag onto her shoulder and stood up. Dent stood up with her and placed his hand on her elbow as though sensing her unsteadiness.
She said to Rupe, “We won’t take up any more of your time.”
“Not a problem.” Looking very pleased with himself for having derailed them, he slapped the armrests of his chair as he pulled himself out of it.
He followed them from the room and down the hallway. He opened the front door and, with a flourish, motioned them through it. “Don’t be a stranger.”
Bellamy stepped over the threshold, then turned back. “Moody has drunk a lot of whiskey, but when he was more sober, he took extensive notes, especially during his investigation into my sister’s death.”
“That’s right, he did,” Rupe said. “He was known for his note-taking. But, along with all the documents and such, Moody’s notes went into the case file, which—”
“He copied. Before you had the original destroyed.”
Chapter 23
Where did you come up with this Postlewhite?”
Dent had been itching to ask her, but he’d waited until they were in her car. Per usual, he had insisted on driving.
“Yesterday, when I scanned that page in Moody’s file, the name registered with me because it was starred on the original and underscored in red on the copy. I meant to ask what that signified but got distracted by everything else he was telling us and never went back to it. It occurred to me that if it was noteworthy to Moody, it might be to Rupe.”
“Good move, A.k.a. You said ‘Postlewhite’ and Rupe looked ready to hurl.”
“He definitely paled beneath his bruises.”
“I only glanced at that sheet in Moody’s file, but there were all kinds of scribbles on it. Notes. Names. How did you remember Postlewhite’s?”
“Well, beyond it being starred and underlined, I remember him. One day when I was visiting Daddy at work, he came into the office to leave some paperwork. After being introduced, he told me to call him Mr. P. and made a big deal of my being there, treated me like an honored guest, talked to me about school, asked me what my favorite subject was. Like that.”
“He took notice of you.”
“At a time in my life when few people did. I never forgot his kindness. I saw him from a distance at the barbecue. He waved at me. He was a nice man.”
“I doubt that’s why Moody put a star next to his name. Any idea?”
“None. But I think Rupe knows.”
“I’d bet money on it.” Coming to a stop sign at the intersection, he asked if she wanted to stop at her parents’ house. “While we’re in the neighborhood.”
“Would you mind? When I moved into my house, I left some dress clothes behind to be packed up later.” Looking sorrowful, she added, “I’ll need them soon.”
When they pulled up to the gate, she gave him the code and he punched it in. As he followed the driveway up to the house, he said, “Place hasn’t changed much. Still makes me feel like I need to pull around to the rear, so if it’s all the same to you I’ll wait in the car.”
“I won’t be long.”
She rang the bell and was greeted by a uniformed housekeeper, who peered around Bellamy to curiously scope him out. She asked something, Bellamy replied, then the two went inside. In under ten minutes, Bellamy came out carrying a suitcase. He got out and helped her place it in the backseat.
“Different housekeeper from the one I remember,” he said.
“Helena has been working for my parents for about ten years. She’s very concerned about Daddy. Olivia’s keeping her updated, but I also promised to call her as soon as I heard anything.”
“Where to now?”
“Haymaker.”
“I agree. We need to get Moody’s cell-phone number out of him.”
“He’ll be reluctant to give it to us.”
“My hoodlum mentality may come in handy.”
